


Warmth

by fransoun



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One)
Genre: M/M, Pre-The Transformers: More Than Meets The Eye Issue 5 (IDW), ambulon hates snow and hail and sleet and ice, but he thinks first aid is kinda nice
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-20
Updated: 2018-03-20
Packaged: 2019-04-05 07:04:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,225
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14038803
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fransoun/pseuds/fransoun
Summary: Delphi is cold. First Aid is warm.





	Warmth

First Aid was talking about the Wreckers again.

It had become tradition for the outpost’s junior medic and its ward manager to refuel together at the end of the day. Admittedly, there wasn’t much in the way of other company for either of them to seek out - despite the medical facility’s size, it was staffed by only three mechs. And Pharma didn’t socialize.

Ambulon took another sip of energon, dimming his optics as he felt the heat of the warmed fuel spreading through him. Delphi was always cold. But in the evenings, the chill receded, pushed back by a heated cube of energon - and the company of First Aid.

Ambulon had never met anyone with a warm personality before.

" - it was their 10th - "

"Their 11th," Ambulon corrected automatically.

"Right, their 11th iteration! Piston, Rack, Valve, Hyperion, and…Crest, I think? Oh, and Impactor, too, of course. He’s been there almost since the beginning…"

First Aid did most of the talking in the evenings. It wasn’t so much that First Aid liked to talk - it was that Ambulon didn’t. Talking drew attention, got you noticed, made you a target, and Ambulon had learned long ago that most of the time, the best way to be a medic in the Decepticons was to keep your head down and get the job done.

The rest of the time, of course, involved begging on your knees.

Ambulon _could_ talk. But old habits were hard to break.

And besides, around First Aid, he never seemed to be able to find anything to say.

But First Aid understood, and the junior medic never seemed to mind filling up their silences with a friendly smile and companionable words. He might tell the same stories over and over again, but there weren’t a whole lot of new tales to be had, out here in the howling cold on the edge of the universe. And Ambulon enjoyed the familiarity of them, their predictability, the knowledge of what was to come. He listened with half an audio, his elbow propped up on the table, his helm resting on his hand, letting his friend’s voice wrap around him like a thermal blanket.

" - and so then Black Shadow - …I’m boring you, aren’t I, Ambulon?"

Ambulon jerked upright, his helm slipping out of the palm of his hand, scraping a curl of paint off the underside of his chin. Scrap. Caught. And he wasn’t Autobot enough yet to lie about it, either. He settled for staring at First Aid with slightly widened optics, desperately hoping he hadn’t offended his friend.

First Aid flashed him a reassuring grin - his mask was off for refueling, and Ambulon’s mind went a little blank - and then changed the subject.

"You know…speaking of the Wreckers…"

Oh. Ambulon dropped his eyes to the cube in front of him, bracing himself, while First Aid’s fingers began idly tracing the edges of his. Here it came. The one crack in the wall that let the cold wind come howling through.

"I can fix him, Ambulon. You know I can."

“ _Aid_ …” Ambulon pinched the bridge of his nose.

"He’s been here for over a year, and we’ve haven’t done anything! It’ll work. I know it will work. You just have to let me try." First Aid’s hands were clenched around his cube now as he leaned forward. Ambulon couldn’t bring himself to lift his optics.

"Aid, you know I can’t do that. It’s too risky. There are only three of us here. We can’t afford to have one of us incapacitated - or - or worse."

Silence fell like a blanket of heavy snow. Ambulon risked a glance up. First Aid was glaring angrily at the table between them, blue visor glinting like ice. Ambulon doubted First Aid would have responded if he’d spoken, but now more than ever his voxcoder seemed frozen in his throat.

First Aid’s chair scraped as he stood. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” The junior medic left the room without looking back.

Ambulon dropped his forehelm slowly to the table with a dull clunk, and he vented out heavily.

As ward manager of Delphi, it was his job to ensure that all three doctors at the facility remained well and able to treat patients. He knew this on a professional level, and he accepted it as simply the way it was. And he didn’t hold it against First Aid, either, that the other doctor disagreed with him - First Aid was simply pushing for what he felt was best for his patient. But First Aid…First Aid took it personally.

First Aid took _everything_ personally. Ambulon remembered the day the Fisitron’s final datalog had come in. That evening, Ambulon had sat with First Aid while the junior doctor had quietly recounted it to him, telling him of the Wrecker’s last stand, of the death of Ironfist, and of how the junior medic could have saved him.

Ambulon sometimes wondered if that was why First Aid had befriended him - here before him was another wrong the universe had presented for First Aid to right.

Thinking like this was getting him nowhere. Ambulon pushed back from the table and stood. He’d planned to head to berth after they’d refueled, falling into recharge while First Aid’s presence still lingered to ward away the nightmares, but now…

Ambulon sighed. If he was going to be up, he might as well make himself useful. He went to grab a shovel.

There was always shoveling that needed to be done at Delphi. Incessant storms piled the snow high against the walls of the facility, making access difficult for the miners and guards stationed nearby. Keeping the main doors and the landing pad clear were near-constant chores. Ambulon headed for the doors.

They slid open, and Ambulon stepped out into the night. When he’d first arrived at Delphi, he’d had some vague idea that the Autobots, with their marginally higher levels of concern for the well-being of their soldiers and their lofty notions of patient care, would have some sort of high-tech, advanced, Brainstorm-invented-and-Perceptor-approved mechanism for removing the snow around the facility. It turned out they did, although it hadn’t been invented by the Autobot scientists: it was him.

Ambulon pushed the shovel into the snow and pressed down on the blade with his foot, sinking it deep into the powder. He levered his arms back and freed the resulting mound from the snow around it before tossing it off to the side, out of the way of the door’s mechanism.

Did First Aid have to act like this? He understood why the junior medic was upset, but did he have to be so - so - so _petulant_ about it?

He pushed the shovel back into the snow. Levered it back. Tossed to the side. Aaaaand repeat.

It wasn’t like Amublon was doing it on purpose. He was just doing his job. That’s all he’d ever done. He’d done his job and kept his head down and tried his best for his patients until -

Until he’d been drafted into the gestalt experiments and decided to run - and ended up here.

Push. Lever. Toss. Repeat.

Here. Delphi. Messatine. The stomping grounds of - Ambulon shuddered, and it had nothing to do with the cold - the D.J.D. They haunted the edges of his thoughts during the day and stalked his dreams at night, always just a step or two behind, ready to inflict unimaginable horrors upon him. Ambulon would wake from those nightmares with a choked-off scream, plating rattling in terror, and spend the rest of the night wandering the halls, wondering why they hadn’t come for him yet - and when they inevitably would.

And now First Aid wasn’t speaking to him, and the only other Autobot here hated him - detested him - _loathed_ the very sight of him. Ambulon saw it in Pharma’s optics every time the doctor so much as looked at him.

Push -

The shovel struck something hard and unyielding - probably ice, knowing his luck. Ambulon grunted in annoyance and brought his leg down hard on the shovel, but it didn’t budge. He laughed once, short and bitter. The one time his alt mode might be useful.

Ambulon leaned his head against the handle. Maybe - maybe he should just go talk to First Aid. He’d never actually done that when Aid had been angry before. Decepticons didn’t really do talking about feelings. And what was he supposed to say? ‘ _I’m sorry for doing my job?_ ’

‘ _Please don’t leave me alone?_ ’

Ambulon flung himself into the shoveling. He picked up the pace until coordinating the motions - push, lever, toss, repeat - pushed all conscious thought from his mind. His fuel pump hammered, sending energon racing through lines, but still the cold crept closer, until he went to straighten up and realized he couldn’t uncurl his fingers.

Ice crystals had formed in the joints while he worked, freezing them in place. He huffed in annoyance. A thick layer of frost coated his plating like paint, blurring the hard angles of his frame. He pinged his internal chronometer. The response came back sluggishly. He’d been outside for hours.

Too long. Time to get back in.

He should head to berth. That’s what he should do. It was late, and he should just get back inside and head to berth and get some recharge and definitely not act on the last thought to get stuck in his processor before he’d stopped thinking at all. He shouldn’t go talk to First Aid. He hadn’t the faintest notion of what he would say. In all likelihood he’d just stand there and stare and stammer until First Aid shut the door in his face - if he opened it at all.

So why was there a dripping trail of melting frost leading through the facility that ended at Ambulon, standing in front of the door to First Aid’s quarters?

Ambulon stared at the door for a while. It was a perfectly ordinary door made of riveted blue-grey steel, just like every other door on the hallway, and yet Ambulon suddenly found it fascinating. Perhaps he would just stand here and study it for a while. Perhaps he would -

The door slid open, and Ambulon found himself face-to-mask with First Aid.

"What do you want now, Ambulon - Ambulon?" First Aid’s optics widen behind his visor, taking in the snow still clinging to Ambulon’s frame.

"Al-always sh-oveling to d-do - " He’d hoped that that would come out sounding a lot more cool than cold. Damn his vocalizer, anyway.

Before Ambulon had time to process what was happening, First Aid was  pulling him into his room. A stunned ward manager was hustled over to the berth and pushed down to sit while the junior medic retrieved a thermal tarp from the closet. Deft hands moved over Ambulon’s frame, tucking the silver pleats tightly against him. Ambulon felt his fuel pump speed up again.

Fortunately, First Aid didn’t seem to notice. Instead, he crossed the room to the small energon dispenser in the corner and drew up another cube, pressing it in to Ambulon’s hands. It was warm. Ambulon lifted it to his lips and drank deeply as First Aid took a step back, folding his arms across his chest.

"I saw you didn’t finish your cube earlier."

Ambulon paused in the middle of drinking to glance up at First Aid with a questioning look.

"I went back to try and talk to you afterwards and saw that you had left it on the table. Ambulon, what were you thinking, going outside like that?"

Ambulon glanced back down at the cube clutched tightly in his hands and muttered something. First Aid sighed and moved over to adjust the blanket around Ambulon, kneeling in front of him.  “You know, you’re not the only one here who worries about the rest of us.”

Ambulon started, jerking his head up to stare at First Aid. With Ambulon seated and First Aid on one knee in front of him, they were nearly on optic level with each other.

And then First Aid leaned up and kissed him.

Ambulon let out a _mmph!_ of surprise, optics going wide. At the sound, First Aid pulled away.

"No? I’m sorry, Ambulon. I thought - "

Ambulon’s hands flew up to catch First Aid’s helm and pull him urgently back into the kiss.

First Aid’s lips were soft and warm, and Ambulon pressed against them, melting into their touch as his optics dimmed to a molten yellow glow. First Aid’s mouth moved silently, breathlessly, and Ambulon’s lips parted to follow. The junior medic slid a hand around the base of Ambulon’s neck, pulling him even closer, and the ward manager’s thumbs gently caressed the smooth metal of First Aid’s face. First Aid slipped into Ambulon’s lap, and the hand on the ward manager’s neck slid down to wrap itself tightly around his waist.

When they finally parted, Ambulon was panting, and First Aid’s optics glimmered.

"I care about you, Ambulon."

"I - I know."

First Aid leaned in again, and Ambulon overbalanced, tumbling back onto the berth and taking First Aid with him. On top of him, First Aid smiled, sly and inviting, tracing a finger over the peeling paint of Ambulon’s chest.

"Now then…where were we?"

First Aid, as Ambulon found that night, was very warm. Warm enough to keep the cold of Delphi away.


End file.
